Return of the Kingslayer
by MiroFTW
Summary: [One-shot] [Post-Season 3] Following his return to King's Landing, Jaime finds that much has changed since he's last been back home.


[Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Please don't sue me. It's just not worth it]

The stump where his hand used to be began to itch. Ever since the wound had been cauterized weeks ago, he would often get an itching sensation of where his hand used to be- a grim reminder of his harrowing return home.

Jaime took a sip of the mead from his chalice.

_Just eat, drink, and be merry_, he remembered Cersei whispering to him the night before. _Tomorrow will be a grand day_.

This day was, by all means, supposed to be a festive affair. Families, friends, allies across the Realm had gathered into King's Landing for this very day - the day that the King would finally be wed.

_My son is getting married today_, Jaime thought. _I should be happy. Right_?

He should have been happy, but deep down inside, he felt nothing. He didn't know if it was because he never had the chance to hold his own son in his arms, or that Joffrey grew up believing that Robert Baratheon was his father, but it didn't matter. This King was not _his _son.

But Cersei loved him. Oh how she did. He remembered entering her chambers shortly after Joffrey had been born. He could never forget the twinkle in her eyes as she rocked him gently to sleep.

It was the same look as when he and Cersei made love for the first time. She was vulnerable, then, unhappy with the arranged marriage to Robert. She needed a shoulder to cry on, and he was there to comfort her. He was always there for her.

The spark between them was always there as well, but neither of them had ever acted on their impulses. They both had a father they didn't want to disappoint. In the heat of that moment though, their lust for each other was undeniable. He leaned in to kiss her, and she made no attempt to push him away. He was hers, and she was his. The affair began, and this forbidden love grew with each passing day.

Journeying back from the reaches of death, he had time to assess what he would ever do if he ever reached home, for there were surely times he thought that the idea was a mere fantasy. There was only one thing in this world that he wanted, and that was Cersei at his side. His resolve strengthened with each step closer to King's Landing. When she was in his arms the night before, he knew that that was what he wanted. Let the world be damned. He no longer cared even for what their father or others might say. He loved her, simple as that.

Which was why when she voiced her disapproval the night before, the words cut deep.

_You've changed, Jaime._

He took a long drink of the golden ale.

"What troubles you, dear brother?" Tyrion, who had previously been trying to get his wife, the Stark girl, to eat, seemed to have given up hope and turned his attention to him instead. "You haven't looked so glum since the day of Robert Baratheon's wedding."

Jaime smiled. His brother knew him well. A bit too well. "Affairs of the heart," he replied. "Another wedding, another reminder that I'm not getting any younger."

"I thought you very much enjoyed your bachelorhood. If you prefer it, we can switch places."

"And risk your lovely wife murdering me in my sleep? Lords, you must be joking. I cannot fathom what goes through that poor girl's head."

Tyrion smirked. "That makes two of us."

"Have you two..."

"No," he said firmly. "That girl has been tormented enough."

They shared a brief moment of silence before Tyrion spoke again.

"Come, it's only custom for guests to be drunk at a wedding, right?" he said, waving across the banquet hall. At that time, a third of the way into their seventy-seven course wedding feast, more than half the guests were already drunk, and a few passed out even. "And, you, dear brother, seem to have quite a bit of catching up to do."

Jaime raised his chalice. "I'll drink to that." They clinked their cups and drank. He didn't have the tolerance his brother had, but he was more than willing to drown his sorrows. "Tell me, are the rumors about Joffrey as bad as they claim to be?"

"Now, now, you know speaking ill of the King, is treason. And even worse on his wedding day."

Jaime scoffed. "You've never been one to hold your tongue."

Tyrion leaned in so that only Jaime could hear. "He threatened to serve Robb Stark's head to Lady Sansa at this very wedding."

Jaime simply nodded. He glanced briefly at Sansa and felt a pang of regret, unable to keep the promise he made to Brienne and Catelyn Stark. When he got word of the Red Wedding, he knew he was no longer bound by the contract that permitted his release, but that didn't make him feel any better. Even if he was able to somehow secure the Stark girl's release, she no longer had a family to go back to. _At this point, Tyrion is her family. The gods are cruel. _Even though they were once his enemy, the Starks deserved a better fate.

"Have you talked to father yet?"

Tywin Lannister was seated on Jaime's right, between himself and Cersei, and beyond her were the newlyweds. His father's face was stoic and expressionless, eyes gazing off into the distance. Their last conversation still weighed heavy in Jaime's heart.

_You are not my son_. _You say you are the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, and only that. Very well, ser. Go do your duty. _

He nodded. "Much has changed in King's Landing since I was last here."

"More than you can imagine."

"I hear you've become the master of coin. Never thought you for role."

"One can only spend so much time getting drunk or bedding companions," Tyrion replied wistfully. "Now I'm wed, and Lord Baelish has left for the Vale, so father thought in some perverted fashion that I would be fit for the role."

"And?"

"It keeps me occupied." He downed the rest of his drink. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've consumed too much wine and am in much need of relief." Tyrion hopped off his seat and left the hall, leaving Jaime to only his thoughts.

The feast had reached its twentieth meal, and the band had just finished its rendition of "Bear and the Maiden Fair". At the corner of his eye, he spotted the bride, Margaery, the lone daughter of the Tyrell family, excusing herself from the table. She was young, and pretty. He wondered if there was more to this wedding than just a political marriage to unite the Tyrells and the Lannisters. This game of thrones began to sicken him.

Not long after Margaery had departed the banquet hall did Cersei follow in tow. Most of the guests were either too drunk or entertained by a pair of dancing dwarves, to notice. Jaime rose from his seat and left as well, despite feeling his father's watchful gaze on his back.

A long corridor ran from where both Margaery and Cersei exited the banquet hall. He could hear commotion further in the hallway, and hid around the corner rather than expose himself in what began to sound like a quarrel.

"I know what you've done." The voice was Cersei's, and he detected disdain in her words.

"And _what _exactly is it that?"

"I have eyes and ears throughout this city. You didn't think I would know that you hired your maiden to try and poison me?"

Silence. Jaime risked a peek, and saw Cersei had removed from her sleeve a small glass jar no larger than his fist. Inside it was a purple liquid he could not identify.

"The Tear of Lys. A rare and fatal poison you took great lengths to acquire. Unfortunately for you, you should've tested it out before having your maiden pour some in my wine."

The realization dawned on Margaery. "You knew the merchant."

"Smart girl. Not smart enough, I'm afraid."

"Joffrey loves me more than you. Even if he discovers the truth, I'll be pardoned, especially now that I _am _the Queen."

And then Cersei leaned in. Margaery was unprepared, too stunned to react to the dagger that had penetrated her stomach. She stumbled backwards, eyes wide and mouth agape. The blood ran down her thighs, staining her lily white dress.

"You will _not _use my son against me," Cersei said. There was an unexpected frailty in her voice. "_My_ son..."

Blood gurgled from her mouth. "But I already have..." Margaery said and fell against the marble wall. A pool of blood began to form from where she lay.

The sounds of footfalls behind him threatened to reveal his position. He turned around and found Joffrey standing there, guards flanking his side.

"Your Grace..." He bowed his head, realizing he needed to think fast. Cersei would need an alibi. "I'm afraid something terrible has happened."

"I heard arguing in the hallway, and Margaery came this way last I saw."

"About that..."

"Stand aside." Jaime did as he was told, begrudgingly.

The King and his guards walked past him and a started look dawned on Joffrey's face. "Margaery!" he squealed, and rushed down the hallway.

Jaime followed. Cersei was breathing heavily, and her blood-stained hands shaking uncontrollably. He didn't know if she was feigning shock, but he put a reassuring hand on her shoulder regardless. She was firm and rigid. _It'll be okay, sister_.

Joffrey knelt down to examine his bride's lifeless body. "What have you _done_, mother?" His voice was filled with contempt.

When Cersei didn't respond, Jaime spoke for her. "Lady Margaery attacked your mother. She only acted out of self defense."

"I didn't ask you, Uncle." Joffrey stood up, fists clenched. There was anger in his eyes.

Jaime gave her a light squeeze on the shoulder and she finally broke out of her spell. "We were arguing, and she came at me with a knife. We struggled and... I defended myself, just like your Uncle Jaime said."

"_LIES_! I know you hated Margaery from the very moment you laid eyes on her." Joffrey's face grew a bright red. He reached over, and unsheathed a sword from one of his guards. The look in his eyes was unmistakable - the look of someone who had just lost the very love of their life. The look of someone ready to exact vengeance for those who had done him harm.

She would never be forgiven. Margaery had won.

Jaime drew from the other knight's scabbard with his one good hand and lunged. The sword impaled the child's soft flesh. _What good was a son who would attempt to slay his mother? _

Cersei let out a blood-curling scream as Joffrey's sword struck the ground. He could feel the child's heartbeat slowing down.

Joffrey looked into his eyes and, with his last dying breath, muttered, "Kingslayer." His body became slack in Jaime's arms. Cersei's wail had turned into a heavy sob. The child he helped birth was no longer with this world.

And in that moment, he had become a kinslayer as well. _What good was a father who would kill his own son?_ She would never forgive him. She couldn't.

_Oh the things I do for love_.


End file.
